Tuesday, June 30, 2009

All too soon, it seemed, lottery day was here - some scattered thoughts, from a scattered blogger (still in the midst of rewrites and rehearsals for a play of his own, going into production out of state)...

Monday, June 29, 2009

What happens in the time between Fringes? Sometimes a little worth reporting, sometimes a lot. Most of the time, if I'm not blogging, it means I'm working on writing my own plays, rather than reporting on someone else's

The day after Fringe 2008 closed up shop, I was off to Morris, MN, for the first read-through of my "gays in the military" play, "Leave"

Ever want to tinker with a Fringe show while it was still in progress? Well, now's your chance.

Thursday night only at the Bryant Lake Bowl (810 West Lake Street, Minneapolis), Allegra Lingo will be previewing her new solo show, "Crescendo" - to hear how it works for audiences before she throws it into the maelstrom which is the Fringe in August.

"Through the eyes of a misfit joker, Allegra Lingo discovers small beginnings can lead to a powerful end. Inspired by the music of Aaron Copland, it's like the movie Fantasia, except with words instead of dancing brooms and scary demons.

For one night only, Allegra Lingo premieres her newest full-length solo show, and she is looking for your feedback to help make final edits before opening the show July 31 at the Minnesota Fringe!

After the show there will be a question and answer session about the show and her work in general, moderated by a member of the local press."

(Hey, that's me!) (No, seriously, I'm the member of the local press who will be moderating, so when I said "join us" above, I wasn't kidding)(Oh, and Allegra, in case I forget, Mom says hi)

Returning to the blurb, for sample questions...

"Where does she get her ideas? What's coming up next? And good God WHY is that music stand still on stage?!?"

Saturday, June 27, 2009

One morning at work, my cell phone rings. Not that many people have the number. One of them is a good friend I just spent several months with recently - online, on the phone, in person - developing a new script for production. It was him. Unexpected, but a day brightener, and you never know what it might mean for the writing, so I answer. Never pass up an opportunity to be reminded you’re a playwright on the day job.

“Hi.”

“Good morning.”

And just like that, I knew he’d called me by mistake. This was “boyfriend early morning phone call voice” if ever I heard it. We’re both numbers he calls a lot - me and the boyfriend. Maybe we’re even close together on his directory or his speed dial. However you slice it, I wasn’t the intended recipient of that tone of voice from him.

Have to give the man points. He immediately shifted into “good friend catch-up mode” and we got each other up to date. Even got on a roll talking about potential future projects. But eventually, I knew I should give him a little shove back in his original intended direction.

“Now you go call who you meant to call in the first place. Say hi for me.”

After hanging up, I found myself thinking, “So that’s what it sounds like.”

It’s been a while. It’s nice to be reminded.

Another, more local, friend and I went to see some really good theater together. Used to date, transitioned to friends. Every now and again, I’m wondering if we’re on the way to transitioning back. But that’s a peculiar hurdle, particularly when you’re just getting used to one another’s regular company again without the added pressure.

I walked him back to his car. It was a busy thoroughfare, regular traffic buzzing by, making it hard to hear everything we said to one another clearly. We were saying our goodbyes. We hugged and he said in my ear,

“I loved it.”

Meaning the show.

But my brain and my ears weren’t in sync due to the background noise and for a split second I thought he said...

...something else.

Same subject, same verb (different tense). Different object.

It brought me up short.

Until my ears caught up with my brain, made the appropriate correction, and I shook it off and waved him on his way.

So that’s what it sounds like.

A couple of weeks back, I handed my trainer at the gym a hundred dollars in an envelope.

My trainer, Tim, is big on having a goal to work toward, so he mentioned this 24-hour relay for which he’d signed up. 200 plus miles along the Mississippi River starting in LaCrosse, WI on Friday, August 21st and ending the next day in Minneapolis, MN. Run by the Ragnar Relay Series people (www.ragnarrelay.com), this one is called the Great River Run. 12 people, each taking three legs of the run, varying in length from 3 to 9.5 miles each, varying in difficulty from “easy” to “very hard.” Daytime running, nighttime running. I was intrigued.

I’m turning 45 on August 26th, seemed like a good way to mark the occasion. The original organizer of Tim’s team wasn’t able to pull together the full 12 people they needed, so they regretfully let it go for this year. But Tim likes a challenge and didn’t want to let it go so easily. So he took on the challenge of recruiting 12 people - well, 10 after me and him. And in the middle of one of my workouts recently, he snuck in the information that he’d found the other runners and that the run was back on.

So my $100 part of the entry fee was a little birthday present to myself. And I set about the business of training for the run. Some of it I’d been doing already - runs lasting between 45 minutes and an hour, getting my time down to a respectable 9-1/2 minute mile, starting to incorporate some hills (phew).

In the schmoopy romantic comedy in my head, there’s someone waiting for me at the finish line. But I know that’s probably not happening. Not in a romantic comedy way. I may not even be the one with the final leg in the relay. I may just be riding into Boom Island Park in the van with the rest of my teammates (note to self, figure out where 700 NE Sibley Avenue is). Still, there may be some friends there to greet me, sweaty though I be. My fellow eleven teammates (new friends, one hopes) will all be cheering each other on, a built-in support system. It will feel good to have done it.

At the front counter at the box office, we see the actors coming out for their regular smoke breaks, sitting just outside the glass doors on the back steps. This one actor is normally alone, checking his email or reading a magazine, doing a crossword. One weekend, a young woman appeared with him, a girlfriend here to see the show. How do I know she was his girlfriend? He was sitting, she was standing next to him. He reached out and gently put his hand around her ankle and let it rest there. When she sat down next to him, he leaned over during their conversation and kissed her bare shoulder.

So that’s what it looks like.

Running in the park near my apartment, more often now as I train for the relay, as spring and now summer have taken hold, the birds have all returned, among them, a great many ducks. They’re always in pairs - one colorful, one brown. Running first thing in the morning, I find most of them asleep, their heads turned backward, their beaks tucked into the feathers on their backs, sitting side by side in the grass. Or one awake and keeping watch over their sleeping companion as I trot by.

The language, my God, the language. These characters talk as foreplay. They talk as an expression of love, of yearning, of anger. The words, and more importantly the ideas trammeled up in those words, just come cascading out of the mouths of these fascinating characters. It’s high-brow, it’s low-brow, but it’s always language shot through with an intense vitality that can sometimes leave you breathless.

“The truth taken from poverty, Paul, is that the absolute sancrosanctity of life? It's bullsh*t, it's just what people say nowadays to startle the stupid and inflame cretins."

These people say wonderful, awful things to each other. They dig their hooks into each other, they shove each other away. They can never be anything less than connected, but they push each other’s buttons with a ferocity at times that borders on cruelty.

“Am I the kind of nuisance who shows up at the home of a family in crisis and makes everything about *me, me, me*, I *hate* those people."

The set-up is important, but in many ways it’s an excuse to get all these people under the same roof talking to one another again, for better or worse, like an Arthur Miller family drama turned on its head - recognizable, familiar, and yet unlike anything you’ve heard before.

Gus has announced his intention to commit suicide, a little over a year since the last time he attempted to kill himself. He’s not depressed, he’s not lonely, he’s just... done. His sister Benny (short for Benedicta) (Kathleen Chalfant, of the original Broadway run of Kushner’s “Angels In America”) calls Gus’ adult children home to the family brownstone in New York to confront Gus’ decision. Daughter Empty (for M.T., Maria Teresa) (Linda Emond, of Kushner’s “Homebody/Kabul”), and sons Pill (for Pier Luigi) (Stephen Spinella, also of “Angels In America”) and Vito (Ron Menzel) reluctantly answer the call. The reluctance is born more of fear and distraction than lack of caring. Empty’s ex-husband Adam (Mark Benninghofen) still lives in the basement of the family home, and Empty’s current spouse Maeve (Charity Jones) is enormously pregnant with their first child, sired with a sperm donation from Vito. Vito and his wife Sooze (Sun Mee Chomet) never strayed far from the old neighborhood. But Pill and his husband Paul (Michael Potts, of TV's “The Wire”) have to fly all the way in from (gasp) Minneapolis. Their sudden self-imposed exile to the midwest was prompted by the need to break the hold of Pill’s addictive relationship with a young hustler named Eli (Michael Esper, “Loggerheads"). Add in the third act appearance of Michelle O’Neill as the nervous courier of a do-it-yourself suicide kit, and you have one amazing roster of performers, in one complicated but compelling story of a family coming to grips with the meaning of life, purpose, love and death.

“My great-grandmother. She was, in her nineties... Damn. Bones and bridge cables wrapped in leather wrapped in black. Maria Teresa Marcantonio. Very smart, and not... nice."

One of the many giddy pleasures about watching this group of actors working together is that the production has found a great mix of both local and visiting artists. While it's wonderful to see all the tremendously talented people coming in from out of town onto the Guthrie stage, it's also a lot of fun to see Twin Cities regulars working seamlessly alongside them. Charity Jones has gotten so adept at playing annoying characters that I have to remember not to hold it against her personally. Mark Benninghofen is great as a guy desperately trying to shore up his tenuous place in the extended family. Sun Mee Chomet doesn't even appear until late in Act 2, but with just a line or two, a gesture or laugh, she turns the volume up high on the comedy in unexpected ways. Michelle O’Neill's one scene is the kind of thing an actor needs to nail just right or the tension of the play might unravel, and nail it she does. Ron Menzel is so good as Vito I almost don't know where to begin. As the "baby" of the family, he is alternately volcanic in his anger, and destitute in his need for love, approval, and the truth. He's hilarious, and scary, and pitiable. Just great. With heavy-hitters like Cristofer, Chalfant, Emond, and Spinella portraying the members of his immediate family, Menzel could bring nothing less than his absolute best, and he delivers it, as the rest of them do, scene after scene after scene. It's pretty breathtaking to watch. As the two men who love the conflicted Pill against their better judgment and self-preservation instincts, Potts and Esper successfully keep the sympathies in this love triangle tugging hard in both directions. Like a character once said in "Angels In America," "We all get to break our hearts on this one."

“I think all the time. And when I think, I think about you. All the time."

“When we won, we took hold of the logic of time and money that enriches men like them and devours men like us, and we broke its f*cking back."

That brownstone (from set designer Mark Wendland) is a marvel - two stories tall onstage with a number of moving parts allowing it to advance and recede, rise and fall. The front door, and the view of the rest of Brooklyn just outside or in the distance, moves up or down, depending on whether the play is taking the audience to the basement or the roof. A vast staircase off to the left remains in place, no matter where folks are climbing to or descending. The level of detail in every corner of each location is staggering, but never overdone. It's a joy to always be able to find something new, depending on your angle of sight. The family home seems well and truly lived in, a character with its own sense of history.

“Oh whoops sorry, I like stepped in the part of the pool reserved for you know the Holy Family."

There's something welcome in getting to watch the gears grind a little between each scene, not be plunged into darkness but watch the actors and crew transition through the shadows into the next spot of brightness which reveals the story. On a larger level, the production is never trying to pretend it isn't an artificial reality. The notion of reality, of consciousness, of life, is part of what the script is dealing with - it never wants the audience to stop thinking, to forget that they're seeing a story.

“Sorrow and loss are unavoidable, and here, in this house, they're imminent."

The shadows and brightness come from Kevin Adams' lighting design, which is gorgeous. Full of uncomplicated illumination when it needs to be, but frequently casting evocative colors and shading across intimate moments when the characters get one another alone. Also aiding the transitions are the music of Michael Friedman and the sound design of Ken Travis, adding another layer of reality and hints of the outside world.

“Gus, I sincerely hope you don't kill yourself. You're not half bad."

I nearly forgot to comment about Clint Ramos' costume design because the clothes all do what the best costumes do - not seem like costumes at all. They're more like each character's second skin, making their personalities something tangible. Pill's button down shirt and jeans, Empty's various layers - either tight around her or hanging loose, Gus' cardigans, Vito's work shirts. The way Eli's unconscious nervousness causes him to adjust his sleeveless shirts to expose even more of his arms and shoulders, until he feels the sting of rejection and pulls up his hoody like a turtle retracting into its protective shell.

“Two years from now this house, this city will be worth garbage, five years from now in the whole world there won't be a safe corner anyplace."

Another nod should be given to the crew, because it must be hard to get a thing this size moving, and then keep it moving, without getting run over. It's good to be reminded now and then of the number of hands that keep that suspension of disbelief airborne, our partners in the illusion.

“You're a funny kind of lesbian."

Much has been said elsewhere about the state of the script - is it "done?" There's a quote, attributed to various people, regarding the notion that "a work of art is never finished, it simply stops in interesting places." For now, this script has stopped in a most interesting, and satisfying, place. Kushner is of course capable of improving on what's in front of audiences now, but I'd be hard pressed to offer suggestions on what to change. It's already been tightened and tweaked a great deal since the earliest performance I saw. The biggest change was taking a scene previously just between two people, and folding it into a scene that overlapped with other family activity. This literally and metaphorically reinforced the notion that these two characters and their relationship were part of the family in a way that the previous scene with them isolated did not. What evolution there's been all seems to be headed in the right direction. Who knows where it'll end up, but this stop on the journey is mesmerizing.

“You were a lot less scary when you were threatening to beat me up."

Is the play as a whole long? Yup. 3-1/2 hours. But the two intermissions give the play, and the audience, room to breathe. It never feels as long as it is. In fact, often it seems to be blazing by at high speed. And the buzz it can leave you with, though you know it's late when you're released from the theater, you want to stand and talk about it, parse over it with other people who shared the same experience. I have a tendency to drift if for any reason the production is less than compelling. I often worried, can I make it through 3-1/2 hours, particularly on the repeat visits? No worry necessary. I was riveted to the action on stage, every time. The script itself is so rich, and the performances so well-formed, there's always something new to take away from it. If you sit back, you can drink in the spectacle and size of the thing. If you sit close, you have the pleasure of watching the emotions play across the actors' faces, behind their eyes, the things they're not saying in words alone. It might be the simplest of thrills, but it's thrilling nonetheless.

“Look at you, clinging to that phone like it was your hope for eternal salvation. but it isn't, Pill, it's just a carcinogenic little microwave bundled with silicon and arsenic and tantalite from the Congo the mining rights for which millions upon millions of innocents have been slaughtered, that's the devil in your hand, you heartless evil wicked faggot."

That simple thrill extends to the structure of the piece. Like "Angels In America," though the canvas is large and densely populated, much of the play takes place in scenes between just two (occasionally three) people. These are offset by a handful of scenes in which the whole family gathers onstage at once, often talking over each other in competing conversations. At that point, the cacophony becomes like a piece of music. If you try to just hang onto one thread of conversation, you lose the rest of the voices. But if you just let it wash over you, like music, the important moments pop up above the rest and take focus as needed. The script, and the performances, so finely calibrated by director Michael Greif, take the audience where they need to go. You never miss what's important. You are never left behind. It's hard to say which is more dazzling, those acrobatic multi-character free-for-alls, or the tremendous power of those two person scenes, where the characters, for better or worse, strip one another bare - always emotionally, every now and again physically as well.

“Congratulations on rolling back fifteen hundred years of sanity."

A friend commented that "it needs a third act," but I respectfully disagree. It has a third act, and it's a doozy. It may not be pitched at the same level as the mind-boggling complexity of the end of the second act, but the third act isn't about maintaining that. It's about the aftermath, and managing the fallout. The scenes between Gus, his sister, and each of his three children, are the kind of conversations we all should be having, before it's too late. Is the man saying his goodbyes, or is he moving to another level of understanding with those he loves most? Hope and dread battle it out as you watch, and wonder. When the lights rise on the final scene, someone, somewhere in the audience always gasps. Two characters we never expected to share a scene together are alone with each other onstage. And you get that excitement you sometimes get when you realize you have no idea what's going to happen next, but you know you're in good hands, so you just surrender to the story and the storytellers.

“I don't know *her* excuse but... Everybody's got one, right?"

In many ways, it's a play about a group of people who love each other too fiercely to avoid hurting each other. The first two acts each end with a declaration of yearning.

Act I - “Only if you'll stay."

Act II - “I love you!"

The play used to end with a character asking another “What do you want?"

Now Act III concludes with the other character answering, “I'm thinking."

Thinking and feeling, two things these people do in abundance, often at the same time, often with conflicting results despite the best of intentions.

“She died giving birth, anyway, not on his birthday. I mean, you make it sound like she, you know, baked a cake and then toppled over into it."

Each act is a chunk of a different day. Three acts, three days. So much life is crammed into those three days. So much has happened before, so much will happen after. But this snapshot of those three days allows you to see inside these people, and their family, and their relationships. Tucked inside all that are the politics and theology which make them who they are, and put them in opposition with one another. History, knowledge, absence, and time are just a few of the momumental forces boiling away in their blood and their brains, threatening to crush them. The only way to survive is to reach out a hand and hope someone takes it. Some reach out, some don't. Some help, some don't. Chekhov (*good* Chekhov) is sometimes really, really funny. And sometimes really, really sad. And sometimes it's really, really funny, and really, really sad - at the same time. That's what this play is like. It hums with the kind of raw humanity that reminds you why acting is so all-consuming. These performers just leave it all out there on the stage. They deserve every standing ovation they get.

“Because if you have no community you mean nothing, you achieve nothing, you *are* nothing. He believes that. My father. It's paramount. For my sister, too. Somehow, for me, belonging to anything that deeply hasn't been possible. Betrayal's always been my only safety, my only... breathable air."

If you haven't seen "iHo" yet, or want to see it again, Thursday (tonight), there's a deal where you can get a ticket for rush price without standing in the rush line. Call the Guthrie Box Office at 612-377-2224 and quote "A42" to purchase your tickets. (It's good for seats in Areas 2 and 3). You can choose your seat and it's only 20 bucks.

If you want to take your chances in the actual rush line, you might land yourself an Area 1 ticket. Haven't had to turn anyone away yet, unfortunately. But it's closing in on closing weekend and so that might make things a little tighter. Call ahead to check on availability and when you might want to get there to save a space in line - 612-377-2224. Cash or check only in the rush line, and you don't get to choose your seats, but they want the best seats filled. So you could get a good ticket for not a lot of money going that route. Whatever tickets don't go at full price, will go to the rush line, 15-30 minutes before show time. $20 Sunday through Thursday evenings and matinees, $25 Friday and Saturday

“You love him. You moved out of your cool Upper West Side like ten-room rent-controlled prewar apartment and went to this place where like it was in January something like 23 below in broad daylight for a week. You don't love me that way."

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

I'll post a more "review-like" review, too. But I've seen it five times now, and will hopefully make it six before the weekend is out, so suffice it to say, I love the thing. It's pretty amazing. You should see it. (It's my nod to gay pride and playwright pride this year, all wrapped up in one. Well, until the Fringe Festival starts...)

Last chances - tonight through this Sunday, June 28, to see the new Tony Kushner play. Deals below...

But since I work in the Guthrie Theater's box office, I've been living with the title, and the impending new creation, for a while.

In renewing season subscriptions last year, some people opted out of the Kushner play, so there would be notes on an order to be processed...

"No Homo"

"Homo No"

The internal production calendar for the theater has to abbreviate the titles to get everything to fit on a standard sized page. The Kushner play was labeled...

"Homosex"

The month of June, six days a week...

Homosex, Homosex, Homosex, etc.

Someone higher in the foodchain in the administrative offices was concerned that people might take offense in the box office to the word "Homo" used as an abbreviation in the ticketing system (personally, I would have found it vastly amusing). So "Caroline, or Change" became "Caroline" - "Tiny Kushner" (a name that came much later)" was just "Short Plays" - and "The Intelligent Homosexual's Guide..." became just "Kushner"

However, since we need dividers with the title, day and time of all shows to store tickets in our filing drawers, and since I've been the guy who took on the upkeep for that, soon we had a drawer that had 40-plus dividers all labeled

Homo, Homo, Homo...

The silliest things give me pleasure sometimes.

Like the announcements over the loudspeaker. They've abbreviated the title to "The Intelligent Homosexual's Guide" for announcements.

Otherwise, at the five minute warning...

"Ladies and gentlemen, five minutes please. The Intelligent Homosexual's Guide To Capitalism and Socialism with a Key to the Scriptures will begin... oh, I'm sorry, it's already started..."

It's a big unwieldy title which I fell in love with pretty quickly. Though there was no script for many months, when people would ask what it was about, I felt I could say, perusing the title - "Well, let's see, religion, politics, hot man-on-man action would be my guess." Ultimately, not that far from the mark.

It's been amusing to see people deal with the title. Some have more trouble than others. The fact that the word "Homosexual" is slowly scrolling in red chaser lights up the side of large pole on top of the theater roof which can be seen from blocks away is challenging for some folks. Some people living in the condos nearby have called to voice "concern."

Others will walk right up and when you ask what they want tickets for will just blurt out "Homosexual" like it was the word "car" or "lunch."

Some will come at it sideways, asking for "that play about capitalism and socialism" or "that Kushner play."

"We have three right now. Is it the musical?""No.""Is it the short plays?""No.""The Intelligent Homosexual?""That one."

There are T-shirts in the gift shop that simply say "Intelligent HOMO sexual" on them. I have two. They're currently the gayest thing I own. I wear it on duty because it's the one place most people won't look at me funny for having it on. People sometimes just point at the front of the shirt to avoid having to say the title aloud.

A family came in for a backstage tour one day, and the mother commented appreciatively about the T-shirt. Then her young daughter read it, turned to her and asked, "Mom, what's a homosexual?"

"We'll talk about that later, dear."

When people line up for rush tickets, and we doublecheck, we ask "Are you here to see The Intelligent Homosexual?" which sounds a bit like they might be coming to visit the Wizard of Oz.

The lighted sign over the entry to the theater lobby upstairs doesn't have quite enough room for the whole title, so it gets broken up thusly

"The Intelligent Homosexual's Guide to Capitalism and Socialism with a Key to

the Scriptures - 7:30pm"

which makes it seem like we're holding evening Bible readings, if you just catch the last part.

Mr. Kushner himself had to come up with a handy abbreviation, which he revealed at his speaking engagement a couple of weeks back. His husband thought it should be like an iPhone, so they started calling it

iHo

Strange as it seems, in the shadow of a much more popular musical production, and a series of short plays with more glowing reviews, the Homo has been the underdog of the festival. I find myself trying to lead the rallying cry some shifts.

"Go Homo. Go Homo."

"Go Big, or Go Homo."

Soon it will all be over. I will have to retire the T-shirts (it often feels like wearing a target on my chest wearing it beyond the walls of the theater). There will be no new plays. The forests and copying machines will breathe a sigh of relief. Many patrons will breathe a sigh of relief - and go back to their diet of Oscar Wilde, Shakespeare, Tennessee Williams, and Noel Coward (intelligent homosexuals, and honorary homosexuals, one and all). Calcified theater scripts, long set in stone, will rule the day. Even next year's "M. Butterfly" (no, it's NOT the opera, yikes - think "The Crying Game," people) (as Mike Myers would say, "She's a man, baby!"), way out in front in the sweepstakes for next season's most "edgy" play on the Guthrie stage, is over 20 years old. Rebecca Gilman (!) (yay!) is the only living playwright crossing the threshhold next year with potential scribbling on their mind, and she's redoing Ibsen's "A Doll's House."

But I'm glad they all took the chance. And I'm glad I got to see it. And I'll miss it. For reasons both good and silly.

It looks like they might even make budget on the Kushner celebration (two shows down, one show with six performances to go).

They mentioned the other day that people from all 50 states came to see some part of the Kushner-fest. Even that one lone homo in West Virginia, god bless 'em. I'm strangely proud of all of that.

If you haven't seen "iHo" yet, or want to see it again, Wednesday (tonight) and Thursday, there's a deal where you can get a ticket for rush price without standing in the rush line. Call the Guthrie Box Office at 612-377-2224 and quote "A42" to purchase your tickets. (It's good for seats in Areas 2 and 3). You can choose your seat and it's only 20 bucks.

If you want to take your chances in the actual rush line, you might land yourself an Area 1 ticket. Haven't had to turn anyone away yet, unfortunately. But it's closing in on closing weekend and so that might make things a little tighter. Call ahead to check on availability and when you might want to get there to save a space in line - 612-377-2224. Cash or check only in the rush line, and you don't get to choose your seats, but they want the best seats filled. So you could get a good ticket for not a lot of money going that route. Whatever tickets don't go at full price, will go to the rush line, 15-30 minutes before show time. $20 Sunday through Thursday evenings and matinees, $25 Friday and Saturday

And because I'm essentially a sentimental son of a bitch a lot of the time, I give you the following press release that hit my inbox. Go support them if you're able. Sounds like fun...

"A Benefit for the Theater Program Brings Professional Actors Back to the South High Stage

VLP Productions will present Oscar Wilde's classic, "The Importance of Being Earnest" on June 24, 25, 26, and 27, 2009 at South High School Theater in Minneapolis.

The all-alumni production is a benefit for the South High Theater Program, which was directed by Louise Bormann for the past fifteen years. Under Bormann's direction this vibrant program has produced over 40 theater professionals. The success of these actors, directors, and technical personnel on a regional and national level demonstrates how an excellent arts program in the public schools impacts both the students and the community.

Bormann will resign as Artistic Director of South High Theater effective the end of the 2008-2009 year. Her appearance as Lady Bracknell will give her the opportunity to work on stage with and be directed by former students, who all now work professionally in the theater. Alumni Ahren Potratz, Ben Tallen, and Teresa Regan Hess will recreate the roles they played as freshman in the 1994 South High staging of The Importance of Being Earnest. The play will be directed by alumna Ellen Fenster and will also feature some set pieces, props, and costumes from the 1994 production.

*****************

All performances begin at 7:30 pm. at Minneapolis South High School Theater located at 3131 19th Avenue South. Free parking is available in the school parking lot.

General Admission tickets will be available at the door one hour prior to the performance. Ticket prices are $20 for adults and $10 for students. All profits benefit the South High Theater program. Payment by cash or checks made out to VLP Productions only.

"VLP Productions" principal Virginia Potratz is an independent producer committed to supporting arts in the public schools."

There are parts of “My Father’s Bookshelf” that are tremendously entertaining and engaging, even brilliant. There are several sections of the performance that effectively put the audience inside the head of someone whose memories are turning inside out. Many of these sections are funny. Some of these sections are unsettling. Sometimes, they’re both.

Bobby (Robert Rosen) is a man who frequently addresses the audience, and is succumbing to Alzheimer’s, though he can’t see it. His wife Carmella (Barbra Berlovitz) can. His children Hunter (Dario Tangelson), Shannon (Megan Odell), and David (Jason Ballweber) can. This is not a story we get in a strictly linear fashion. We get very little traditional exposition. Most of the details we get, we pick up on the fly, in random order. Bobby’s childhood, courtship, early and later parenthood, all collide in fragments, sometimes delivered in a rapid-fire style, sometimes at a more languid pace. Sometimes events will be seen both from Bobby’s perspective, as well as the perspective of his loved ones, as they struggle to hang on to their good humor and optimistic attitude in the face of their disintegrating family unit.

An army of rolling refrigerators hold everything from food to clothing to drugs to books. Surprises are tucked into deceptively familiar places. Elaborate diagrams of circuitry and endless lengths of extension cords outline specific memories and represent unraveling synapses. Personal questions about coping strategies from unknown interviewers are projected above the stage, prompting stories both humorous and alarming from Bobby’s family members.

The things that don’t work are especially puzzling because they aren’t strategies Live Action Set has normally used in the past to engage an audience. For instance, there is a strange patchwork of moments throughout the evening where Megan Odell is addressing the audience as a doctor who studies Alzheimer’s, trying to give the spectators an overview of the basic facts of the disease, and the current direction of research into treatments and potential cures. This barrage of information does little to enlighten the audience about the other characters and their plight, and seems to encourage the conclusion that nobody knows anything. While it’s certainly a valid point, a lot less time could have been spent getting there. The notion of being confused is a big part of life dealing with this disease, but the other parts of the performance give the audience a window into that reality much more effectively. Toward the end, when the doctor reveals the meaning of the title of the show, and veers into very personal information about her own father, herself, and her child, it starts to feel like we’re not listening to a character anymore, but getting information directly impacting the performer’s life. This may just have been very intense and effective acting, in which case, kudos, because I started to get uneasy, as if I shouldn’t be watching this anymore, sort of like emotional porn. The exploration of the line between realities is something Live Action Set plays with frequently, and it’s central to a discussion of something like Alzheimer’s. But you want to be careful it doesn’t get away from you. When the audience starts to feel the performers may be getting out of control, they stop paying attention to the story and get distracted by the storyteller. This is the kind of framing device that one would expect from a more traditional kind of theater company. Not bad, just not necessary for a group like Live Action Set, because they’re beyond that basic sort of storytelling. They get at the same truth by other means - physical, emotional, nonsensical, but all the more powerful for being unconventional. And I’m not saying this because I’ve seen Live Action Set do better than this in other performances. I’m saying it because I’ve seen them do better in other parts of “My Father’s Bookshelf.”

There’s earned sentiment, and then there’s blatant manipulation. Examples of sentiment that’s earned abound. Bobby tells of launching a small rocket into orbit, then losing control of it. Now it’s trapped, circling the earth, irretrievable, only electronic signals reminding anyone that it’s still out there, stuck in an endless loop but still functioning. The line between Bobby and his rocket isn’t drawn directly for the audience. It doesn’t need to be. Elsewhere, the family uses Bobby’s lack of short term memory to say all sorts of absurd things to keep from repeating themselves in a continuous cycle of the same conversation. Later, when Bobby’s demands become more unmanageable, we see the toll it takes on the family’s normally buoyant spirits. Words don’t need to be spoken. Toward the end, when an audience might expect a string of emotional farewells, the family gathers around, all with beer in hand, and tells a string of corny jokes. Bobby can’t tell jokes anymore, but it doesn’t matter. The jokes are so old, everyone recognizes a part of the mangled punchlines.

The use of song in this production tends to fall into the manipulative category. Perhaps there should be a moratorium on the use of the tune “You Are My Sunshine” in plays. When a woman sings the plaintive melody to a man who is slowly being lost to her, it seems a bit manipulative - either pounding home something that was already felt, or overreaching for an emotional payoff that hasn’t yet been earned. However, when an entire chorus of gray-haired performers in matching uniforms comes parading in singing “You Are My Sunshine” (no, I’m not kidding), you’ve officially crossed the line and gone sprinting off into the distance. So much is accomplished in so many other places in this production with few words, or none at all, that it seems baffling when the show doesn’t seem to trust that loaded silences or simple moments between skilled performers (which each and every member of this ensemble is) will be enough.

The other thing this production struggled with was knowing when to stop. I counted almost half a dozen ending points. Any of them, prior to the last one, would have been satisfying emotional conclusions - Bobby, placed in a long-term care facility, brought in line not by the staff but by his wife, who knows how to play into his new inner world, a woman who he trusts but no longer recognizes; Bobby saying his goodbyes to his youngest son, the memories of whom he knows he’ll lose first; the family beer and joke time; Bobby stepping outside himself to see his current physical state; the revelation of the title. But then, after all that, we get some peculiar schtick involving rocket launches and premature blackouts and here come the Alzheimer Family Singers again with a Beatles tune and at that point I just have to scratch my head and go, “Huh?”

In its defense, “My Father’s Bookshelf” was enormously cathartic to the large segment of the audience who had all been effected by Alzheimer’s taking their loved ones from them, and came specifically to see the play because of the subject matter, and in some cases their involvement in the production’s development. There was much laughter and many tears and a standing ovation by that contingent in the audience. Oddly enough, they probably needed the informational segments of the production even less than the rest of us did. But it meant a lot to them to see their stories reflected in a way they thought was truthful onstage.

Though uneven in execution, the performers are so good, and some stretches of the production so inventive, that the good outweighs the bad for me, and “My Father’s Bookshelf” is still...

Sunday, June 14, 2009

Just giving everyone a heads up as Mom and I worked our way through the festival, just in case they wanted to give a look to the things we were interested in seeing, looking for suggestions for what they might see themselves...

8/2/2008 - Day 3 - What's Mom Seeing Saturday?Shakespeare's Land of the Dead, My Hovercraft Is Full of Eels, One Night Only With Mike Mahony, The Cody Rivers Show presents Stick To Glue, Tipping The Bucket, Boys Don't Make Passes At Girls Who Wear Glasses; The Bronze Bitch Flies At Noon, and Dog Tagmatthewaeverett.com versionTwin Cities Daily Planet version

8/6/2008 - Day 7 - What's Mom's Final Day of Fringing for 2008 Look Like?Jack; Beowulf or Gilgamesh - You Decide; American Sexy; The Bronze Bitch Flies At Noon, and Dog Tagmatthewaeverett.com versionTwin Cities Daily Planet version

8/7/2008 - Day 8 - First Day of Fringing Without Mom - What Will I See Thursday Night?The Bronze Bitch Flies At Noon, and Dog Tag; Mortem Capiendum, The Boyshow, All Rights Reserved - A Libertarian Ragematthewaeverett.com versionTwin Cities Daily Planet version

This is a combination of links to a sadly meager bunch of full reviews, and a whole lot of shorter reviews as the days flew past and blogging time was just mighty hard to find. These were also some pretty great stuff...

This is a combination of links to a sadly meager bunch of full reviews, and a whole lot of shorter reviews as the days flew past and blogging time was just mighty hard to find. These were the best of the best...

...and I was allowed to see another set of 10 Fringe shows, what would they be and why?

Well, this year I at least managed to get to a full set of 11-20 shows (the year before I just waited too long and ran out of time before the Fringe got under way). That almost happened again, but after doing full entries on a couple of shows, I powered through the remainder all in one post. Sigh. Will 2009 fare better? We shall see...

Every year, I clear out my pre-Fringe Top 10/Top 20 list and make room for 20 more sets of artists to spotlight. Every year, artists from past lists reappear with new work. So I try (emphasis on the "try" last year) to run down on the returning favorites, because like the new Top 10/Top 20 crowd, these old friends are a safe bet for good fringing, ever reliable for something interesting and worth checking out. Last year, these are the returnees I actually got full write-ups done on. I hope to be better in 2009. We shall see if I achieve my goal...

About Me

Playwright, arts writer for Twin Cities Daily Planet and MNArtists.org, blogger mostly about the Minnesota Fringe Festival - www.matthewaeverett.com is my writing website and general web home - still, at the moment, just like the blog title of old says, single